Requiem for a Feather
by Michie-ko
Summary: A requiem is a piece of music written to commemorate somebody who has died. This is a requiem not of melody, but of spirit.


The final blow. For some reason, I'd thought it would hurt more than this. But there's nothing now. I'm numb, emotionless.

The depths of my emotions have evaporated. Now, at the end, at my end, I'm just a bleeding shell. I lied, and cheated, and killed, just to stay alive, but what good did it do? Death came anyways. Thinking I could run from death, I tried to put myself on the same level as the immortals, the legends. Tried to achieve greatness. I was close, too. But I could have never achieved the same level that these inhuman beings have. They don't feel, they don't cry, they just do.

Them…who was I, to think that I was better than them. Their eyes, while trying to suck me into their lies, mocked me. Glowing, yellow eyes. Their cold, hard, beauty. Perfect skin, dark hair. But those eyes…they frightened me, but at the same time, I was drawn to them, like a moth to light.

To achieve immortality, to become invincible, I threw everything away. Everything that made me human, I left. I didn't want to be human. Humans killed each other over silly things. Humans had emotion. I didn't want that; I didn't want to be dragged down by my own tears. They stung in my eyes, those tears, but I didn't let them fall. Holding them back until they burned my being. Maybe, at some point, someone saw my tears. But, I didn't let them know that I truly felt them each day. I shrugged it off. Those weren't my tears; they were the tears of the old me, the human that I had left behind years ago. I wouldn't let her come back out again. It would be my downfall.

Who has done this to my, to my body? There is pain, but I don't feel it. The being that was inside of me, my spirit, reaches out, but without a hand. I'm losing control of me. What am I, without a body? Just a weak little girl who lost everything she held dear long ago. There is nothing to hold close now, no comfort, no love. My body isn't mine any longer.

And you. You're the one who killed me, for the final time, aren't you? I try to look at your face, to see your expression. But it's all dark around me. I'm frightened. It feels like I'm going to be torn apart. Why did you do this to me?

But you didn't. They did. They used my spirit, my soul, to fuel their own goals. I thought I had no feelings left, but when I look at them, I know that was a lie. I never want to become like that. If only by clinging to a shred of emotion, I will feel again. I have to.

Too late. I'm dead. That's right, isn't it? She's dead, all of her. The little girl, the grown woman. She's gone.

Then who am I, the spirit? Not the ruthless young woman, stepping on them all to reach the top, cutting them all down with her cold magic. And not the little innocent child, running to her mother when she was hurt. I don't show my pain, but I don't embrace it, either.

Ah, right. That's who I am. The girl, but not the child. Insecure, filled with painful emotion, but taking the time to glance at the pretty things in life. Not as simple as a child, not as complex as an adult.

That girl, she was so amazed at her own ability when she first used the staff to heal her little brother's cut knee. That girl, who loved music, to dance and to sing. That girl, who wanted nothing more but to meet someone, to fall in love, to never be lonely again. The "me" I never wanted to meet. I hated her. She knew what power was, but never searched for it. She knew what love was, and wanted it with her whole being.

Love. I laugh at it now. What good would it do? If I had fallen in love, back then, it would have caused me nothing but hurt.

But when I look back at it, not falling in love hurt more. Men were weak; I always had disliked them. But, oh how I wanted to fall in love.

And then the dark came. The dark power that dragged me in, that bewitched me.

It saw my ability, my magic, my skill. And it desired that skill, and it always got what it wanted. I fell into their promises, when all they wanted was all of me. Heart, body, mind and soul.

The body is gone; it is all theirs. Nothing left of me is in it, save for my spirit. But what good is the spirit when it has no control? I can't think straight; my mind is gone as well. There's no reason to my thoughts. See, there isn't any point. It's all random. No logic.

My heart was the first to die. I lost it long ago. I never loved, I never will. And I never felt anything for the poor fools I struck down. Wielding powerful phrases, my sharp tongue cast magic around them. Confused, they fell into oblivion, along with my heart. And one day, it simply left. I felt nothing for the ones I killed. Only the urge to get more power. I thought power could set me free.

So, all that's left of me is this shard of soul.

That woman, that monstrous creation of him, she promised me power. Luring me in, she gave me what I dreamed of, a chance to prove myself. But to do so, I let everything I held close gently float away. Inside, part of me ran after it, chasing those feathers on the wind, but the other me held her back. She screamed and struggled, but aided with false promises and wishes, the darker face won. She forced the naïve girl into submission, crushed her beneath the weight of her heel, humbled her. That other girl ran in fear of the darker me. She never really came back.

I cried that day. Of course, none of them saw, but truly, I did. I cried for the me I had killed. The happy girl, the magician, the healer. The dark sorcerer had heartlessly cut her down with a bolt of thunder. Blotting out all light, she simply withered away under the cruel eye of the dark witch.

That dark witch is me, isn't it? It really wasn't who I had aspired to be; no, but it was who I turned out as in the end. And the end is now. The end of me, the end of all things.

No. This world will live on, in whatever shape or form. This world, the only thing that has ever been kind to me. This world I almost destroyed.

Something rushes back to my body, some sort of white-hot feeling. Pain. Sweet, glorious pain. Stinging what would be my fingers, if I had a body. I cry out, but it's not heard. I'm just another voice in this oblivion. I want to be heard, I really do. But what choice do I have in this matter? I'm not above death; I couldn't even control my own end.

And like it started, it's gone. The feeling that warmed me up, the feeling of that life that I craved, vanished like a soft shadow in the wind. But something is different than it was. It's not so dark anymore. There is a wide, open feeling, but it's like something holds me close and keeps me warm. That's right, it still is warm here. Such a sweet, beautiful warmth.

I want nothing more than to be at peace, to settle down into nothingness, to finish my miserable existence here. But perhaps that is not to be. Maybe I'll wander this world like a wraith, a phantom ghost, a spirit without a purpose. Or maybe I'll quietly watch over this world from afar. Yes, I'd like that better. Maybe, for once, I could watch without being disturbed. I could go wherever I chose.

I never said goodbye, did I? But, to whom? Ah, no matter. There was never anyone to say goodbye to. Everyone I knew, everyone I thought cared about me, they all used me for their own gains. All I ever wanted was to have power, so I could be strong. So I could be my own champion. Perhaps it would have saved me then, but it hasn't now.

Something rushes in, like a draft into an open room. The warmth is gone, but so is the pain. I wait.

Voices surround me now. Shouts, clashes of weapons. The twang of an arrow sings overhead, and then the fighting stops. Something hits the floor with a metallic clang. Words, garbled beyond recognition, sound in my dying ears.

But…what is this? My body…I can hear? That evil has left me alone to die. That evil has led my body to its doom, has left me here when I was of no more use. I'm alone now, but it's better this way. No more evil to drive me over the edge, no more forces to make me do things beyond my own will. I may not have chosen how I died or where, but I'll choose when, I'll make sure of it.

I feel my own blood running across my chest. It's warm, almost comforting. I don't feel any pain; I'm too numb to feel that here, now. It's all right. My life truly ended when I lost emotion years ago. Though this may be my actual death, it's more like a chance to say goodbye to this beautiful world.

I struggle to open my eyes. I'm too weak; there's not enough life essence left in me. But somehow, they're already open. Gray stone and red blood, colors rush in. An overwhelming flood of color forces me back into myself. And your face. Sweet little girl becoming a woman, a soldier. Your appearance is in disarray, messed up hair, bloodstained dress, dirty sword. Maybe that's my blood. Hmm.

You see me looking at you, and take a step back. No, little girl, I'm not going to fight you now. This isn't the me you knew. This is a different magician, one with no power. It takes all of my strength to keep my eyes open. Why would I use my last breath to fight for a cause that has abandoned me?

And then you look at me with sorrow. No! Stop that! Don't pity me, don't cry for me, don't feel for me! You exhale, turn away slightly. Good. Don't look at my eyes. I don't want you to see the tears that are flowing now. Like life slowly flowing out of me, tears. Tears of what though? Betrayal, sadness, anger? Even I don't know.

And all of a sudden, I have emotion again. Just for these last moments, but is that enough? I look at you, focus in my fading eyes. The room is growing black. There's no use for me to use these eyes anymore; they can't see anything but you. I don't want to look at you, the figure standing before me.

I hate you! I do! You're the one who killed me, the one who killed my cause! But, somewhere, something says no. It's only a whisper, but it grows stronger. Something coming back from long ago.

The little girl, the musician, the healer. She's come back to me now, at my last hour. I feel myself slipping into her, becoming one with her again, finally accepting her into me. She curls her little body around my spirit. It's not like I'm being held tight; it's warm and open. But, nevertheless, I feel safe.

Eyes closed, life fading away, everything's leaving now. Except the emotions and spirit and dreams. They're still there. I lay here, dying, but holding close to my chest the dream I've had since I was a child. That dream, drifting away like a feather on a light breeze. Goodbye, me. I'm sorry for hurting you. Truly, I am.

Life leaves me now. Everything slips away. As my last wish to the world, I give you a smile. Maybe now I can finally be at peace.

_((In case you didn't pick it up, the speaker is Ursula. I wrote it imagining the girl she's talking to as Florina, though it could be Lyn as well I suppose. A troubador is defined by Encarta as a traveling medieval musician, which is where all of the music references come in._

_It's a different experience writing a story like this. The detail isn't anything new, but having to work with memories and regrets it. The closest of my fics I can compare this to is Set Me Free, but that one has more raw emotion, as opposed to a distant lack of it._

_Plus, this is my first Fire Emblem fic. I usually write about Sailormoon (specifically Haruka and Michiru) or the occasional Tokyo Mew Mew piece, though I guess emotions are the same in any fandom. Check out my other stories._

_Story by the one and only Michie._

_Ursula and all the other Fire Emblem characters aren't mine. Though, I like to play around with them, twist their emotions, and make them more likeable. Wait, this is likeable?_

_Michie likes reviews. Just leave a little feedback, that's all I ask. If people read this, I might write more for Fire Emblem, but I haven't played in a while. Maybe I should go dig it out…_

_Thank you!))_


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